Stick Around
by swords and pens
Summary: Inside is a collection of Connor & Jenna drabbles and one-shots.


**Title:** Movies & Popcorn  
**Author(s): **swords and pens  
**Rating:** K  
**Genre:** Romance, Friendship  
**Word Count:** 1329  
**Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Connor/Jenna (Jenner/Jonnor/Cenna). Jenna Middleton, Connor Deslauriers, Archie "Snake" Simpson (but not really).  
**Summary: **Jenna invites Connor to watch a movie.  
**Notes: **This is one drabble of a series. They're all fluff. I'm on a Connor/Jenna kick, so feel free to request or suggest different ideas for future drabbles, yeah?

* * *

The bouncy young blonde threw in a bag of unpopped popcorn and plopped onto the living room couch, adjacent to the kitchen. The remote lay just within arm's reach on the coffee table, but being comfortable, she struggled to extend her arm further. Her torso was pulled down by the force of gravity, leaving her in a twisted, slumped over position. She quickly clutched the remote and push herself upward, catapulting her back onto the couch. Noticing her phone laying atop the arm rest, she grabbed it and dialed the first person (it was in alphabetical order).

An eager, deep male's voice said hello over the static. She could almost hear him smiling. "Hey, Jenn." Normally, Jenna would have scrunched her nose up at the pet name, insisting that everyone who's anyone call her Jenna, but she let it slide. It was no use arguing over something so trivial.  
"Hey," she began, high-pitched and soft-spoken, "Do you want to come over?" her fingers fiddled with the blanket folded ever-so-neatly over the couch. It's probably the neatest place she'd ever lived in since KC's tiny apartment and her and her brother's cozy little place. She was just thankful she didn't have to deal with Alli's parents (who were out on a date) and Alli herself (who was either with Dallas or comforting Clare, she wasn't sure).

"Uh, um," the boy began, unable to hide his stutter. He couldn't contain himself, thinking of all the possibilities that this invitation could mean. "Like a date?!" he blurted out, immediately embarrassed by his outburst.

"Yeah, sure, Connor," she coughed out a small laugh. "Like a date."

* * *

He felt himself smiling from ear-to-ear. Staring at his reflection, he frowned, unsatisfied with his attire: light-colored baggy jeans and a polo-shirt with an oddly-shaped food stain decorating the region his abdominal muscles are supposed to be. He shrugs, about to leave, thinking "maybe she won't notice," only to remember how his new (and FIRST) girlfriend took pride in her appearance. She never showed up to school in a messy bun and sweats, so he thought he should at least consider something nice. He glanced at his closet, not one piece of clothing out of place, and grabbed a pair of khakis on a hanger and a folded collared shirt, laying on the top shelf (like the ones Mr. Simpson wore on casual Friday).

He put on the shirt without thinking of unbuttoning it, confused as to why he was struggling. When he was halfway through the head hole, he remembered to undo the buttoning at the top. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if he was losing oxygen. "Thank God." He didn't even notice how every button was then shifted upward, making the last without one.

Unzipping his jeans, he shook them off his ankles, rushing to put on his khaki pants. "Socks, socks, socks," he echoed himself, trying to find a match in his drawers. It hadn't taken long, thanks to his obsessive need for organization (Mr. Simpson's favorite quality). "Shoes, shoes, shoes." he repeated, doing the same quirk to find an appropriate pair of shoes for this "date."

Settling on a pair of sneakers he bought for a discounted price at the shoe store, he climbed up the stairs in a hurry. The principal of his school and caretaker, stood waiting, blocking him from leaving any further with his outstretched palm. "And where do you think you're going?" he sounded playful, but it could have been mockery or disapproval (Connor was never that great at reading people's emotions or speech).

"Uh, Jenna's?" he stumbled out the girl's name with an upward inflection.  
"Oh," Mr. Simpson said nonchalantly, before backtracking with, "Oh!" His eyebrows raised and he pointed at Connor's shirt. "Unless that's a new trend, you may want to fix that." It took Connor a second to realize he was talking about his shirt, which he quickly readjusted. He straightened his frames, nodded and waved at Simpson (to acknowledge him leaving), and turned the doorknob.  
"You have to, uh, jiggle, it," Simpson commented, before taking control and opening it for him.  
"Thanks."

* * *

The doorbell rang simultaneously with the beep of the microwave. Jenna sprang up and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a plastic bowl. She didn't have time to pour it, since he constantly reminded her he was there via the doorbell, so she just stuffed it inside. She shuffled to the door, one hand wrapped around the bowl, the other wrapped around the knob. "Hey, Cah-" her smile transformed into a frown, "Nor." she didn't have a nickname for him that sound cute like Jenn (unless she went with Connie, but that sounded old and feminine).

"What's wrong?" the boy returned her facial expression, "I am the one you meant to call, right?" she scanned his outfit and then her own: she was wearing a lavender tank top that was riding just above her hips and grey sweatpants 'Degrassi' running along the side in a sans-serif typeface and dark blue color. Only then, did she notice his zipper was undone.

"Oh, nothing," she began, reassuring him. "Don't be so paranoid, Connor."  
"Oh, good," he sighed.

"However, your fly is undone." she teased, which he fixed immediately out of embarrassment. She looked up at him, cocking her head, "I feel bad, though. I'm wearing pajamas and you're all dressed up."

He just grinned back at her, unsure of what to say.

She grabbed his hand with her free one and pulled him inside, kicking the door behind them. "Bhandari's are letting me rent a movie." she explained, flopping onto the couch so her and her legs take up two out of the three sections. "Suggestions?"

Connor sat down gently on the place she had taken up, making Jenna lift her feet up, slide down, so the arm rest was now a pillow, and rest her feet atop Connor's lap. She aimed the remote at the television, so they could look at a list. "Comed - any particular genre?" he interrupted himself, before jumping into his favorite of sci-fi, fantasy, or comedies. Simpson was always lecturing him on manners.

She waved off his courtesy, "Comedies are fine. What about animated films?" she returned her attention to the screen, "Oh, Hotel Transylvania! That looks cute - I mean, if you want to?" she gave him a smug grin. Much to his dismay, he shrugged, but she eagerly tapped the password to unlock the movie. Before entering it, she asked, "You sure?" to which he nodded.

* * *

It was halfway through the film, and Jenna was passed out on the sofa in the fetal position. On her side, the remote was clamped in her right hand, resulting in the movie to accidentally fast-forward. "Jenna," he whispered, poking the girl's foot. When she hadn't awakened, he poked her again and shook her a little too carelessly. "Jenna!"

"What?" she rolled over, groggily. Connor jutted his thumb at the fast-forwarding screen. "Oh." she paused it and sat upright, scooting closer to him.  
"I'm cold." she leaned into his shoulder.  
"So am I." he replied, not getting the memo.

Jenna turned her head to him, laughing. "Jesus, you're such a dork!" she grabbed a pillow laying on the floor, ready to swat him in the head. To her surprise, he grabbed the pillow juxtaposed on his right, whacking her so hard she fell backward.

"Crap," he bit his lip nervously, "Are you okay?"

Jenna responded with a obnoxious laugh, clasping her stomach from laughing so hard. "I'm okay!"

The petite teenager crawled across the couch, seemingly innocent enough, to playfully push him over. He slid onto his back. Her blonde hair dangled over his face, tickling the bridge of his nose. She pressed her lips to his and collapsed. Resting on his arm, she yawned, "Let's just lie here a bit, okay?"

"Okay."

And, so as she slept, he stared at the ceiling, counting her every breath like sheep.


End file.
